


Amber & Blue

by Catboiler



Series: Life is Strange [4]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23277733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catboiler/pseuds/Catboiler
Summary: A series of one-shots exploring the friendship between Chloe and Rachel.
Relationships: Rachel Amber/Chloe Price
Series: Life is Strange [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/503971
Comments: 28
Kudos: 36





	1. Introduction

A series of one-shots exploring the friendship between Chloe and Rachel.

Unlike my other stories in Arcadia Bay, this won’t be following a set timeline or plot. I am planning to write a series of short one-shots centred around Chloe, Rachel or both, set during and after the events of Before the Storm. They will not be in chronological order, they will be updated sporadically as my life/work balance allows, but I’m hoping they will be some fluff, fun, random, possibly melodramatic shorts in the town of Arcadia Bay. We’ll see. As I write this intro, I have absolutely no idea how this is going to go. It might be terrible. I hope not.

I won’t be sticking slavishly to canon. By that, I mean that all shorts with ties to plotlines or characters in the games will be respected and not changed. However, I reserve the right to introduce a bit-part characters as necessary for stories that exist outside the realms of the games.

Please do leave reviews, I always try to respond to them. If you like something, please let me know, it’s always good to massage my ego!! If you don’t, then please also let me know, constructive criticism is again always welcome (as is proof-reading – I always proof-read everything but it’s strangely difficult to proof-read your own work). But if you also have a request for a short, I am willing to consider it and credit you for the idea. One caveat – I won’t be writing explicit smut, that’s not what these stories are about.

I'll be posting the first chapter within the next few days, so please be patient...

Oh, and Chloe and Rachel will be playing their reference game, but this time it's up to you to spot the pop-culture references. Each chapter will have a number of references to spot, see if you can get them all. Answers in the comments...


	2. Wrap Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to spot: 2

“Did you see his face?” hooted Dana, laughing wildly as she reached out for the bottle of cider from Juliet. “It was an absolute picture!” She laughed again as she took a long swig from the bottle, grimacing as she did so. “Oh man, this cider is so shit,” she said, eliciting a laugh from Rachel, who was sat opposite, warming her hands on the small campfire they’d set up on the beach. “I don’t even know if it ever saw the inside of an apple.” She grimaced again as she took another swig. “It’s like licking a shag carpet.”

“Does the job,” said Rachel, nodding wisely, “so don’t hog, hand it over.” She looked around. Chloe was sat to her left, looking a little apprehensive, Dana was opposite and Juliet to her right. Behind them, sprawled on the floor, was Hayden. They’d cajoled him into coming along with the promise of weed, and he’d grudgingly accepted. “It was… unexpected. I thought he would have at least lasted the performance.”

“Me too,” said Dana, turning to Juliet. “Shame you missed it. He just completely freaked out on stage. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“I didn’t miss it,” said Juliet, shaking her head. “I arrived late, but I was just in time to see him… well, I’m not sure exactly how you can describe it. Melt?”

“He freaked out,” said Rachel. “Plain and simple. Something must have got to him, either that or he realised just how much of a prick he is and how much people really don’t want to see him.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Dana. “I think people enjoyed seeing him meltdown.”

“I saw his father talking to him before the show,” said Chloe, reaching out for the bottle of cider. “He was really piling on the pressure.”

“Oh?” At this, both Dana and Juliet sat up. “Sean was there?” said Dana.

“Yeah, he was really reaming him out,” she continued, trying to ignore the suppressed giggle from Rachel next to her. “It was obvious, I mean, fuck, he didn’t want to do it, he thought, I dunno, it was gay or something…”

“… theatre isn’t gay!” said Dana.

“… but Sean just bulldozed through anything he said.” Chloe lowered her voice. “ _You will go out there, and you will do your part to promote the Prescotts. Do you understand?_ ” she said, imitating Sean. “It was all about him, not about Nathan at all.”

“I wonder sometimes,” said Dana, “if Nathan actually is just a product of his father. I mean, how much of Nathan is actually Nathan, and how much is his father projecting onto him?”

“Poor Nathan,” said Juliet, and three heads snapped around to look at her.

“Poor… what the fuck, Juliet?” said Rachel. “Nathan’s an asshole. He’s just a complete and utter asshole. And he’s creepy as fuck,” she said, shivering and putting her arms across her chest. “Every time he talks to you, you can see his eyes wandering all over… it’s like he’s…”

“… undressing you,” finished Dana, and Rachel nodded. “Yeah, he does that to me, too,” she continued, shivering a little herself. “And his eyes, they seem so intense…”

“… almost like he’s staring through you sometimes,” said Rachel. “So, I ask again, what the fuck, Juliet?”

“Oh, he’s… harmless,” said Juliet, shaking her head. “I mean, he doesn’t really have any friends…”

“… apart from that Samantha chick,” said Chloe. With some cider in her, she was beginning to feel a little more at home. “She seems to worship him. Such a fucking priss. She had a go at me yesterday.”

“Really? She grew a pair?” said Juliet. “I’ve never seen her stand up for anything.” She paused. “Mind you, she blends into the background a bit so I’ve never really seen much of her at all.”

“Hardly. Drew was having a go at Nathan, you know, messing round and stuff, and she wanted to defend him, but as she’s such a priss, she tried to get me to do her dirty work for her,” said Chloe. “Yeah, right.” This time, she pitched up her voice. “Chloe! Do something. Help Nathan for me, because I won’t do it myself!” She returned to her normal voice. “Yeah, right.”

“Ah, she’s ok,” said Juliet. “She’s just a little…”

“… blind in one eye?” said Dana. “Seriously, Jules, I’m getting a little worried about you. You seem to have taken an ‘everyone’s nice’ pill.” She laughed, and both Rachel and Chloe joined in. Juliet looked at her friend.

“Not at all,” she said, shaking her head. “Just… oh, you know, trying to put things into perspective.” She looked around at the group. “Hey, Rache, don’t hog the grog,” she said, holding out her hands. Giggling, Rachel passed the bottle around to her and Juliet took a long swig, sighing in contentment. “Still, it all worked out,” she said. “Just glad you were there, Chloe. Thanks for stepping in for me.”

“Yeah, like I had much of a choice,” said Chloe, glancing to her side.

“Oh don’t be a sourpuss,” said Rachel, grinning. “You loved every minute of it!” She giggled. “Mr Keaton was having a massive panic. What with me not available, and then Juliet…”

“Yeah, what happened with that?” said Dana. “We were told that you were being replaced, then…”

“Ah, just Wells being a prick as usual,” said Rachel. “Chloe and I skipped school and he found out.”

“ _You_ skipped?” said Dana, and Rachel nodded.

“Got bored. Wanted to do something different, and Chloe was most helpful. However, as I said, he found out. He was looking to punish something, and we were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Mind you, it wasn’t exactly fair. I got kicked out of the show but Chloe got suspended.”

“Really?” said Juliet.

“Yeah, right. As I said, a prick. He really doesn’t like Chloe, so he was harder on her. In fact, he was going to expel her,” said Rachel, and Chloe looked down, “until he remembered how much money he can make out of me, so he goes easy on me and just suspends her instead. Fucking bullshit.” She looked across at Chloe. “I’m sorry, Chlo, I tried,” she said, shrugging, “but Wells can’t be trusted.”

“Yeah, I get that,” said Chloe. “Certainly a candidate for prick of the year. Anyway, being suspended means I get more time to myself.” She grinned.

“So what happened? Victoria was your understudy, right?” said Dana, trying to bring the conversation back around to the show.

“Yeah. We, er, _persuaded_ her that theatre was gay…” said Rachel.

“… theatre is _not_ gay,” said Dana, again.

“… I know it’s not, but… look, she’d have shat all over Prospera, wouldn’t she?” said Rachel. “You remember the understudy rehearsal the other day?”

“I’m trying not to,” said Dana.

“You remember how it went?” asked Rachel, and Dana shuddered.

“Yeah. I remember. I’m really trying to block that particular trauma out of my head forever,” she said.

“Exactly,” said Rachel. “So we persuaded her that appearing on stage wouldn’t be good for her social standing, so she quit on the spot.” She smiled. “Just lucky I was there to step in.”

“ _We_ persuaded?” said Juliet. “We?”

“Well, it was mainly Chloe,” admitted Rachel. “She was brilliant. Absolutely nailed it. I mean, shit, never play poker with her, ok?” Chloe grinned.

“Hey, don’t give away my secrets,” she protested. “I might need some cash soon!”

“Anyway, so I stepped back in,” continued Rachel, “and then he had another panic attack because Steph had to shoot off, and then Juliet wasn’t there, so he was making plans to cancel the show, when Chloe here stepped up to the plate and saved the show.” She paused. “I _may_ have railroaded her. A little.”

“A little?” smiled Juliet.

“Ok, a lot,” grinned Rachel. “But it worked out, didn’t it? The show went on.”

“Hey, just glad to help out,” said Chloe. “I remembered the lines, at least,” she continued. “Just about. I guess I did ok.”

“Hey, you did more than ok,” said Rachel, and Chloe felt her cheeks glowing. Was it the heat from the fire or something else? “You were _awesome_.”

“Yeah, remembering your lines was just part of it,” said Dana. “I think, had you auditioned, you’d have given Juliet a run for her money. You know, she was great an’ all, but she really has a problem with…”

“… she’s right here, you know that, right?” said Juliet, laughing. “Seriously Chloe, you did great. And that part at the end…”

“… holy shit, that was totally intense,” said Dana. “Off the script, and…” she peered through the gloom and the fire at Rachel. “Wait a sec, that wasn’t just making shit up, was it?”

“No comment,” said Rachel, suddenly interested in reaching for the bottle.

“That was…” continued Dana.

“… serious,” finished Juliet. “And Chloe went along with it.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you two…”

“… friends? I hope so,” said Rachel, coughing slightly. “I mean, we only really met a couple of days ago at the Firewalk gig. So yeah, I hope we’re friends.”

“Anything more?” said Juliet, and Chloe felt her cheeks reddening even more, suddenly very glad for the fading light. “Come on, you know you can tell…”

“Come on, Jules, lay off,” said Dana, prodding her friend. “Leave them alone.” She mused for a moment. “Maybe theatre _can_ be gay…”

“Hey, I’m a journalist,” said Juliet. “It’s what we do. We…”

“… pry, yeah I know that,” said Rachel. “Anyway, I think you’re embarrassing my _friend_ here,” she continued, passing the cider back to Chloe. “Why don’t we change the subject?”

Behind Dana, Hayden started awake and sat up. “Um, it’s…” he said.

“Hey, go back to sleep, dude,” said Dana, grinning. “It’s ok, nobody’s landed.”

“You…” he peered around the group. “How did…” He paused, then sighed again and lay back down. “Wake me up when we get there,” he mumbled.


	3. The Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story originally appeared as a flashback in one of my other stories, although it has gone through a couple of revisions since then.  
> References: 1

“Are you sure about this?” Chloe looked at her friend, sat on the couch, biting her lip. In the distance, the hoot of the approaching train penetrated the bird song that surrounded the hut. Rachel nodded.

“Yeah. I’m sure.” She shifted on the seat, betraying her nervousness.

“Absolutely sure?”

“Absolutely sure,” said Rachel after a pause. Chloe caught on.

“We don’t have to do this, Rache. No harm, no foul. Giving you a get-out here. No questions asked.”

“No, it’s ok, Chloe. Um,” she hesitated, “will it hurt?”

“A bit,” Chloe agreed with a nod, “but I’ve brought some natural anaesthetic with me.” She indicated the bottle of whiskey on the table and two glasses. “I’ll have one, but not until afterwards. Look, if you don’t want me to do it, we can go to the shop. I don’t mind.”

“Chloe, don’t panic. I know you want to do this for me. I _want_ you to do it, ok?” She grabbed the bottle and took a gulp, wincing as the golden liquid burned its way down her throat. “I trust you.” Chloe smiled, the smile lighting up her entire face at the words.

“Okay, okay, calm down,” she said, nodding her head towards her sketchbook. “Have you decided on the design that you want?”

“Yeah.” Rachel turned the pages. “The dragon is absolutely gorgeous, but I don’t think I’m ready for that yet, and the yin-yang, I don’t want that much ink just yet, hon. I think I’ll go for the star.”

“The star? Nice,” said Chloe, nodding her head. “A solid starter choice. And where would you like it. Here?” she said, grinning as she pointed to Rachel’s left breast. Her friend laughed.

“Tempting, but no,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d like it here,” she continued, holding out her left hand, “on the inside of my wrist.”

“Cool. Okay,” said Chloe, taking on a more commanding, yet still gentle tone, “you’ll need to sit very still while I do the initial outline, right? We’ll think about filling it in later on, but I’m not sure we’ll need to for this design.” She rolled up Rachel’s sleeve, baring her milky-white arm and Chloe’s heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t help but put her fingers on it and gently traced the star on her friend’s wrist. “Your skin is so soft, Rache.” She hesitated and took a breath. “Okay. Last chance to back out or forever hold your peace.”

“Just get on with it, Chlo,” said Rachel, giggling, “while I still have the courage. Give that here.” She took the bottle and swigged another mouthful of whiskey, wincing again but staying strong. “Okay, I’m ready. Give it to me.”

“Later. First we have to do this,” said Chloe, laughing infectiously, and her friend joined in. Once the laughter died down, she got down to the serious business of inking her friend. True to her word, Rachel stayed strong, hissing slightly once or twice but staying mainly silent throughout the whole process, which took around half an hour to complete. When she’d finished, she rewarded herself with a swig of whiskey and Rachel sat up.

“Is that it?” she asked, and Chloe nodded.

“Brave girl,” she said, “but not quite finished.” When Rachel looked concerned, Chloe shook her head. “This part won’t hurt, I promise.” She produced a bottle of lotion and grinned. “This is the part I enjoy,” she said, squeezing some out onto her hand. “Hand.” Rachel obediently lay her hand, tattoo side up on Chloe’s lap. Chloe took it in her left hand and, very gently, almost sensually, rubbed the lotion into Rachel’s wrist. Rachel hissed as the lotion came into contact with her skin, and Chloe looked at her in alarm. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s perfect,” she said, huskily. “You’re really good at this, you know.” She let Chloe rub some more lotion into her arm, probably more than was necessary in all honesty, but neither girl was complaining. Once Chloe was done, she allowed Rachel to look at her arm. On seeing the perfect star, she squealed in delight and jumped up, wrapping her arms around Chloe and hugging her tight, thanking her over and over again.

“You’ll have to take care of it now,” said Chloe. “You can’t forget to rub more lotion in, ok? It needs time to heal.”

“Um, what if I _do_ forget?”

“Then I’ll have to do it for you,” grinned Chloe. At this comment, Rachel laughed and they both slumped back down on the couch, in each other’s arms.

“Now what?”

“Now we celebrate,” said Chloe, picking up the two cups and filling them with a generous amount of whiskey. She handed one to Rachel and raised the other in the air. “A toast,” she announced.

“What do we drink to?”

“To… to the star.”

“To the star,” echoed Rachel, and both girls took a sip of whiskey, settling back into a comfortable embrace. She murmured something which Chloe didn’t quite hear.

“What was that?”

“I said… thank you, Chloe.”


	4. Calatra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References: 2

Rachel looked at the piece of paper in her hand, then back to Chloe, who was trying to suppress a giggle. “So the whole point of this is to…”

“… complete the quest,” said Chloe. “I told you that already.”

“What’s the quest?” said Rachel.

“We don’t know yet.” Chloe shook her head.

“Where are we going?”

“No idea.”

“And I’m…”

“… that one,” said Chloe, pointing to the figuring on the table.

“And why do I have to be the healer?” said Rachel, sighing, looking down at her character sheet. “Healing is soooo boring.”

“Not at all,” said Steph, sat opposite Chloe, Rachel and Mikey, with books and paper arranged around her in an arc. “In fact, it’s one of the most important jobs on the board.” She nodded imperceptibly at Chloe, who grinned. “You could even say it is critical to the success of the mission.”

“Yeah, without a healer, I’d be dead!” said Mikey.

“What he said,” said Chloe, nodding at Mikey. “I’m known for charging in without a care. I need a healerer to keep me alive this time.”

“This time?” Rachel arched her eyebrow.

“Yeah, I kinda died already,” said Chloe.

“She sacrificed herself heroically for me,” said Mikey. “So that we all could live.”

“So if she died…” said Rachel, “how can…”

“She was brought back by one of the Elder Gods,” said Steph. “Her noble sacrifice caught their attention and they decided to bring her back to continue her good deeds.”

“Bullshit!” coughed Chloe.

“Yeah, her _good_ deeds,” repeated Steph. “I’m sure there will be some. We are, however, still waiting for them to manifest themselves.”

“Hey!” protested Chloe, but Steph ignored her, smiling.

“You,” she said to Rachel, “are the group’s healer. You were drinking in the bar, feeling sorry for yourself when Barb and Elamon entered, having wandered in looking for directions…”

“… not all who wander are lost,” said Chloe. “We knew exactly where were going…”

“… and over a few drinks, you became fast friends and decided to accompany them on their next adventure,” she continued. “Your character’s name is…”

“… this is where you pick your name,” whispered Chloe. “Make it a memorable one.”

“Healer…” mused Rachel.

“… not accepting Healer McMedic, or Healer McHealface, or anything like that,” said Steph. “I already pushed the boat out with Barb, so you can damn well put some effort into it.”

Rachel giggled. “Fair enough,” she said, mulling over the possibilities in her head for a few seconds, before looking back up at Steph. “How about… Calatra?”

“Calatra,” said Steph, cocking her head and she thought it over.

“Hey, that’s a nice name,” said Chloe. “I like it.”

“Me too,” said Mikey. “Is she an attractive healer?”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” said Steph, looking over to Rachel with a glint in her eye. “She is as you see her.”

“Oh god, that’s all we need,” said Chloe, facepalming. “A wizard with a raging erection! Not good. Not good at all. I’ve heard it can really affect your spell-casting.” Mikey reddened and Steph tried and failed to hold in a laugh. Soon all four were rolling about hooting.

Once they’d calmed down, Steph turned serious. “Ok, listen up. You have been summoned to the town of Erebor. The town elders, having heard of your heroic exploits in the surrounding areas, have asked to here to put a proposition to you. You stand in the presence of three town elders. A tall man with a flowing white beard. He is the town magistrate, Glandon. To his right sits the mayor, a fat, balding man who sweats a lot. His name is Baloc. The third elder is a woman in a flowing white gown flecked with green flowers. She is the town seer, and her name is Sabine. It is Sabine that has summoned you to this meeting.”

“Meh. We’ll hear what they have to say,” said Chloe. “See what’s in it for us. It’ll have to be worth our while. It’s been a bit of a pedal to get here, in the middle of fucking nowhere. Say you, Elamon?”

“I’m tired,” confessed the wizard. “Although Calatra is certainly a welcome addition to the team.” He sighed.

“Um, do I talk now?” said Calatra, but Barb just looked at her with one raised eyebrow. “I guess I do,” she said. “My, um, companions are I are here, good elders, as we were summoned,” she said, making an obvious effort. “We have travelled far to hear your plea,” she continued, as Barb noticeably yawned. “My apologies, good lady, but my companion hasn’t been sleeping well these last few nights…”

“… fucking stony ground…” grumbled Barb. “Can’t get comfortable.”

“… so please excuse her rudeness. How can we be of service?”

“Sabine looks at you,” said Steph. “‘We have summoned thee because of thy heroics of Barb and Elamon,’ she says. ‘But of thou we have no knowledge. Pray, introduce thyself.’”

“Of course, my lady,” said Calatra, looking sideways to Chloe, who was trying not to laugh. “I am Calatra. I have only recently joined Barb and Elamon.”

“What hath thou accomplished?” said Sabine, her eyes narrowing as she glowered at the healer in suspicion.

“Not much,” said Calatra, struggling. “Um, I slew the, um, vicious chicken of Bristol?”

“Been done before,” said Baloc, shrugging, as Barb suppressed a giggle, and Sabine looked at the healer once more, who just glared back at her.

“Look, I’m here. I didn’t ask to be here,” said the healer, “I got drunk and found myself joined with these guys. I’m a healer. I heal. They need me.” She looked Sabine up and down. “And it looks to me like _you_ need me too. Nuff said.” She paused and looked across at Barb. “Do you have a mic I can drop?” Barb suppressed another giggle.

“Okay, okay,” sighed Sabine. “Thou hath proven thyself worthy. And sassy.” She paused. “You know, it’s _really_ difficult to talk this thee and thou crap all the time. Can you just hurry up?”

“Sure,” said Barb. “Just tell us what you want already. I just want to get all stabby with it.”

“I shall ask thy magistrate to tell thee what the problem is,” said Sabine, sinking into a chair and wiping her forehead. The magistrate, Glandon looked down at the group and his face fell.

“Our children are disappearing,” he said. “We don’t know where or how, but each night more of them vanish.”

“And you need us to find out what’s going on and stop it?” said Elamon.

“Yes,” replied the magistrate.

“And what’s in it for us?” said Barb. At this, Sabine frowned.

“You would really…”

“Listen, lady,” said Barb, shifting her weight to the right. “We’d love to help y’all, but we have to eat n shit as well. It was a pedal and a half to get here, not forgetting that god-awful swamp we had to wade through. We’re hungry, and we’re tired. So yeah, we need some sort of monetary compensation for our trouble. Capische?”

“You…” Sabine rose quickly, but was interrupted by the magistrate.

“Quiet, Sabine,” said Glandon. “It is only right they be compensated for their trouble, and risk.” He turned to them. “There are rooms at the inn at your convenience, and food and drink will be provided while you stay here. Once the children are returned, you will be rewarded well.”

“In that case, consider it done,” said Barb. “Come on, guys, let’s…” She paused and turned back to the elders. “You want the kids back, right? What if… what if we can’t? What if… we can stop more from being taken, but can’t do anything about the ones already gone?”

“Then we will be in mourning,” said Baloc. “But we hope and pray for their safe return.” He stood. “Please, do what you can.”

“So that’s it, right?” said Calatra, as the adventurers left the elders and walked out in the midday sun and headed towards the inn. “We have our quest now?”

“We do,” said Elamon.

“So when are we going to start the killing?” At this, both Barb and Elamon turned in surprise. “What?”

“There’s more to this than killing,” said Elamon. “We have children to rescue.”

“Fuck them,” said Calatra. “We haven’t killed a fucking thing yet. I’m getting itchy.”

“You’re our healerer!” said Barb. “Do no harm? Hippocratic…”

“Fuck that,” said Calatra. “I’ll heal your asses, sure, but anything else gets burned.” She grinned. “I have Holy Fire, remember?”

“Okay, okay, we can argue about who’s killing who tomorrow,” said Elamon. “Right now we need to get to the inn and rest.”

“Why?” Both Calatra and Barb turned to the wizard, who was looking at his watch.

“Because I’m due in the science lab in five minutes.”


	5. Tell me about...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by chloeandmax4ever  
> Rachel asks Chloe more about Max and their past friendship before she left for Seattle. Sorry, this one started as one topic but morphed into another. I will be revisiting this topic again.  
> References: 1

Rachel opened her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to drum up the courage to ask. Finally, she decided. It was now or never. “Tell me about Max,” she said, quietly.

“What?” Chloe sat up and her head spun around so quickly she looked like the chick from the Exorcist. “What did you say?”

“I said, tell me about Max,” repeated Rachel. The sun was going down, its amber light creating wonderful god rays through the trees as they lay on the deck of the boat, the familiar smell of the junkyard around them. The god rays seemed to be alive; the trees’ swaying coupled with the movement of the sun creating the illusion just for the two girls as they whiled away the time.

“I heard you the first fucking time,” said Chloe. “And I say again. What. The. Fuck?”

“I mean it, Chlo,” said Rachel. “I know Max was a big part of your life before me, and I want to get to know you more. You’ve always shied away from the subject…”

“… with good fucking reason…”

“… but I have ears, you know. I can hear you muttering to yourself. Fucking Max this, I wish Max was here, that sort of thing.” Rachel sat up too, her back moaning its reluctance; the deck of the boat wasn’t exactly the mattress of the Hilton, not that she had a point of reference. “I know Max was important to you, which makes the subject important to me, too.”

“Look, there are some things that are just fucking private, okay?” said Chloe. “Some things you don’t want to know about me.”

“But…”

“… and there are things that I just don’t want to fucking talk about. Capische?” Rachel almost physically recoiled at the venom in Chloe’s voice, but she pressed on.

“And yet I still want to know about you,” she said, her voice quiet and calming. “And I want to know about him.”

“About who?” asked Chloe, her forehead crinkling.

“About Max.” Rachel paused. “Was he your boyfriend? First crush? First love? First…”

“You really don’t know anything, do you?” Chloe barked. “Ha!”

“Then tell me,” said Rachel. “Please? I thought we were best friends. Best friends… don’t keep things from each other.” Chloe looked at her friend, tears forming in her eyes. “I won’t judge you, I promise,” continued Rachel, taking Chloe’s hand. “Tell me.” A solitary tear escaped from Chloe’s left eye, meandering its way unheeded down her cheek. “Please?”

Chloe wiped a second tear away, and reached into her wallet. There she pulled out a battered old photo and wordlessly handed it over to Rachel, who nodded and looked at it in silence, her eyebrows raising.

“Max was a… girl?” she said, finally breaking the silence, and Chloe nodded as Rachel handed the photo back.

“My… we were best friends, sisters, the other halves of each other,” she said, after another long silence that Rachel left uninterrupted. “That photo was taken about two hours before my dad was killed, and two days before Max… left.”

“She left you, just after your… that’s…”

“She didn’t leave,” said Chloe. “She abandoned me. Just when I needed her the most.” There was an uncomfortable silence. “Just like everyone else.”

“Except me.”

“Maybe,” said Chloe.

“What do you mean?”

There was a pregnant pause before Chloe continued. “Can you promise you’ll never leave me?” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper.

“I… er…” Rachel stopped speaking, unable to continue.

“Exactly.” Chloe turned away from Rachel. “Same shit, different day.” Rachel reached out to touch Chloe’s shoulder briefly, but Chloe flinched and she withdrew her hand, hurt.

“That explains a lot,” she said, falling silent for a few minutes, then piping up again, this time more brightly. “Did you know we had a dog?” she asked, and Chloe turned back to her.

“Let me guess,” she said. “It died.”

“Skip to the end much,” said Rachel, ignoring her friend’s petulance and smiling. “Yes, it died, but that’s not the point.”

“Go on then,” said Chloe. “Regale me with your deep fucking wisdom. What happened before he died that is _so_ fucking relevant?”

“His name was Binky, and he was a mongrel. Collie cross lab. Totally mental. But I loved him dearly.”

“And then he died.”

“Can you just…” sighed Rachel in frustration. “Yes. He died. Dogs don’t live forever. But I knew he was going to die. I was old enough to understand that one day he would be gone. But I didn’t love him any less, Chloe. I made sure that I loved him every day of his life, that I made his life as happy and fulfilled as I could. He died last year, and yes, I was upset. I still am when I think of him. But him leaving me wasn’t his fault, and it certainly didn’t stop me loving him.” She thought quickly. “So where’s Max now? Can we go and see her?”

“Why?”

“To find out why she hurt you, to find out what went wrong.” Rachel took a deep breath. “To try and build some bridges.”

“She’s… gone.” Chloe exhaled deeply and lit another cigarette, breathing it in several times before continuing. “Her dad got a job in Seattle.”

“So she didn’t choose to leave you?”

“No, but she…”

“It wasn’t her fault,” pressed Rachel, sensing the Chloe was close to a breakthrough and she was right.

“ _She never called!_ ” shouted Chloe, throwing the cigarette over the edge of the boat. “Okay? She didn’t call, she didn’t text, email or _any_ of that shit.” She began crying properly. “She ghosted me, okay? She… fucking abandoned me.” Rachel immediately reached for Chloe and pulled her into her arms, rocking her back and forth slowly as she cried.

“It’s okay, Chloe,” she murmured into her ear. “I’m here.”

“Yeah, but for how long?” cried Chloe.

“I don’t know,” said Rachel. “But I _do_ know that I’ll never intentionally do anything to hurt you.” She paused. “And maybe you can tell me more about Max.”

“Why?”

“Because you loved her,” said Rachel. “And you need to talk about her to someone.” She smiled wanly. “May as well be me.”

“Someone else might get it wrong?” At this, Rachel smiled warmly, although Chloe couldn’t see it.

“Exactly,” she said. “Best friends.”

“Forever?” said Chloe, but Rachel shook her head.

“Can’t promise that,” she said, “but certainly best friends as long as possible. What was that?” she continued, after Chloe mumbled something.

“I said, you could just fucking lie to me and agree,” said Chloe, and Rachel giggled. “What?”

“That’s more like it,” said Rachel, and the girls lay back down, trying to catch the last vestiges of warmth from the dying sun. Minutes passed, until Chloe broke the silence.

“Binky.”

“What?”

“You called your dog Binky.” Chloe tried to suppress a giggle. “Seriously? _Binky_?”

“I was four,” said Rachel, shrugging. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“And now?”

“Doesn’t matter if you think it’s lame. I loved him, Chloe. I still love him. And I still miss him.”

“Yeah. I still miss her, too, Rache.”

“I know, Chloe. I know.”


	6. Jefferson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: This is an interesting one. I’ll post the original synopsis for this story below. As you can see, it took a completely different direction as I was writing it. I think it suddenly shifted up a gear just after the newspaper article. Well done, Rachel, for taking my synopsis and completely throwing it out of the window!! (Maybe I’ll get back to the original synopsis later on)  
> Chloe finds out that Mark Jefferson is coming to Blackwell to teach and gets upset because Max would have loved it.  
> References: 1

“Have you seen this?” repeated Rachel, waving the current issue of the Blackwell Totem in front of Chloe’s face.

“For the last time, seen what?” Chloe put her hand to her head, it was still aching and the painkillers were refusing the kick in. “And stop waving that infernal pile of crap around my head.”

“This.”

“Well, give it to me, shit-for-brains,” said Chloe, her temper beginning to rise. She grabbed the newspaper from Rachel and looked at it. The sun was bright overhead and she had to screw up her eyes to read the writing. “Fuck, I knew I should have brought my shades today,” she said, sitting down on one of the picnic tables. “Give me a chance to read it, okay?”

Blackwell was, as always, busy. Lunchtime was nearly over and, as usual, Chloe was spending it with Rachel. To be honest, outside of class they were rarely seen separately. Since Chloe had been allowed back into school last year (after a suspension lasting nearly a month), she had tried her best to attend every lesson, and her teachers had noted on her reports her improved attitude and motivation. She even tried to enjoy Mrs Hoida’s English classes (to no avail) but generally put up with them rather than anything else. Mrs Hoida was trying hard, but really, the classes were just so easy and, well, _boring_.

…

_Blackwell Academy scores a home run… or does it just strike out?_

_Expos_ _é by Juliet Watson_

_Continuing the strong tradition of the arts that Blackwell Academy holds dear to its heart, we have another exciting addition to our staff coming in the fall. It was rumoured several months ago after the radio interview with Amy Rivers, but it can now be officially revealed that, from this fall, Blackwell Academy will be hosting a new Photography track! Not only that, but we have secured the services of the one and only Mark Jefferson to teach it!_

_Yes, you heard me. Our very own legend, Mark Jefferson._

_Born in Arcadia Bay in 1975, Jefferson attended the American Academy of Art in Chicago, becoming one of the most recognised black and white photographers in the late 1990s. He has been featured on the covers of many prominent magazines and even has his own book, so to have someone of his calibre teach at Blackwell is certainly something to celebrate._

_Or is it?_

_It’s no secret that Mark Jefferson is a great photographer, one of the best currently around, and that he is quite opinionated when it comes to critiquing his fellow photographers (especially Diane Arbus, he seems to have some sort of vendetta against her, who knows why), his subject matter could be construed as either (1) a deliberate attempt to elicit visibility and publicity through controversy, or (2) just plain creepy._

_He is known for the black and white photography that forms the majority of his work but delve a little deeper into his portfolio and you’ll come across a focus, nay, an obsession with women, young women in particular. Female models in highly sexualised positions, semi-clad or semi-nude seem to spring out at you on every page, classic lips-apart, breathy, bordering on soft pornography, although never actually crossing the line. This reporter can’t help but wonder his motivations in coming to Blackwell. As soon as applications open, there are sure to be a myriad of students wanting to be taught by the famous Mark Jefferson, young women among them. Will they be tapped as a potential source of material? This reporter thinks that is a definite possibility, so I guess the only thing to do is watch this space…_

…

“Never heard of him,” said Chloe, flinging the newspaper back to Rachel.

“You’ve never heard of…” Rachel was aghast. “You must have, surely.”

“Nope.” Chloe leaned back, closing her eyes and showing her face to the sun. “Should I?”

“He’s only one of the most famous photographers in the world,” said Rachel. “And he’s from Arcadia, so he’s homegrown. You must have…”

“No, I told you, I’ve never heard of him,” said Chloe, cutting her off. “Don’t know him, don’t want to know him. Don’t care.”

“He’s hot.”

“And that excites me… how?” said Chloe, raising her eyebrows at Rachel, who, strangely, didn’t smile back.

“Because I’m applying,” said Rachel. That got Chloe’s attention. “I’ve got to be on that course.”

“Really?” she said. “Didn’t think you were interested in photography,” said Chloe. “Snap snap, grin grin, nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more, all of that crap?”

“I’m not,” said Rachel, “but it opens doors to what I _do_ want.”

“In what way?”

“Him.”

“This… Jeffer… shit, whatever his name was?” Chloe opened one eye and looked at her friend. There was a fire in her eyes that Chloe knew all too well.

“Jefferson. And yes. Didn’t you read the article. Didn’t you get what he looks for in a subject?”

“You can’t be…”

“If I can get to know him, get close to him, perhaps I can model for him. Being a model for a famous photographer would surely open doors for me,” she said, in a whisper.

“But you saw what it said,” said Chloe, betraying the fact that she’d read the article in depth. “You saw what he wants… would want you to do.”

“Take my clothes off?” said Rachel. “If it means national or global visibility, in a heartbeat.” She paused and shook her head. “But he doesn’t want that. He just wants poses. Have you seen his work?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Chloe, don’t you see?” Rachel was getting fired up. “Don’t you see what this could mean for me, for _us_?” She paused again. “This could be our ticket out of Arcadia. If I can model for Mark Jefferson, then I can model for anyone. It would be the start of my _own_ portfolio, and an income for the both of us.” She nodded. “It’s what we’ve always dreamed about.”

“But this…”

“… won’t be so bad,” said Rachel, biting her lip. “I’ll show you the photos,” she said, smiling slyly.

“Rache…”

“Chloe, don’t be such a prude. How d’you think people get ahead in modelling? By seeing an opportunity, reaching out…” she reached out as if to pick a piece of fruit, then quickly closed her fist, “… and taking it.” She grinned. “You snooze, you lose,” she said.

“But this is…”

“… exactly what I need to get started.” Rachel stood up. “Look at me, Chloe.”

“I do.”

“I’d have trouble getting into the industry right now.”

“Why?” Chloe looked at her friend. “You’re beautiful.”

“Why thank you, but that’s not what I meant. I’m not tall enough. They want at least five ten, don’t they? I’m too short, so I’ll need to find another way in.” She paused. “This could be the way.”

“I don’t know, Rache,” said Chloe. “I wouldn’t feel right.”

“Well, it’s not you doing it, is it?” she said. “Do you want to come to LA with me or not?”

“Of course I do,” said Chloe. “Don’t talk like…”

“… then you need me to do this. I don’t see you coming up with the cash,” she said.

“I’m working on that,” said Chloe. “I know a couple of people. I reckon I can…”

“Don’t, just don’t,” said Rachel. “Anyway, I might not get on.” She grinned, thinking. “Then again, I _could_ cosy up to Wells to get accepted.” She pursed her lips. “I’ve seen the way he looks at me after a few drinks. Could be fun.”

“That no-good drunk piece of…”

“… Chloe Elizabeth Price, are you jealous?” said Rachel, a knowing smile appearing on her lips. “Jealous that Jefferson and Wells might get to see something you want to see?” She bit her lip suggestively. “You want to watch? Or maybe you want a private show,” she said, and Chloe’s blood pressure spiked.

“Rache…”

“I know, Chloe,” said Rachel, warmly, touching her finger to Chloe’s lips. “I know what you want.”


	7. Games Night

“What do you think?” Rachel turned to Chloe, her eyebrows raised.

“Not brown,” replied Chloe. “Anything but brown.”

“Okay,” said Rachel, brightly. She tapped the game piece four squares to the left. “Green,” she announced, and her father nodded, picking up a card.

“Green it is. Okay,” he said. “Which tool for marking musical tempo was invented by Dutchman Dietrich Nikolas Winkel?”

“That’s easy,” said Rachel. “The metronome.”

“Correct,” said her father, smiling, then turned to the girl sitting next to his daughter. “Did you know that, Chloe?”

“Actually, I did,” she said, her mouth thinning just a little at the barely-disguised barb. “I nearly started learning an instrument a while back in school with M…, with my friend. I remember the teacher had one of those. It was a weird thing, but quite hypnotic.” She gazed off into the distance. “It was a lovely sound. Clack, clack, clack, so repetitive. So… relaxing. But anyway, I digress.” She rolled the die. “Six,” she announced. “Excellent. Blue wedgie?”

“A… wedgie?” said Rachel, trying and failing to hold back a giggle. “Those aren’t wedgies. Wedgies are when you… look, they just aren’t wedgies, okay?”

“Oh yeah? What are they, then?” said Chloe, challenging her friend with a glare.

“Cheeses.”

“Cheeses,” repeated Chloe. “Cheese.” She looked at her friend with raised eyebrows. “I think not. Blue wedgie question, please, Mr Amber.” She glared again at Rachel, who stopped talking and screwed up her face, trying not to laugh. “Now concentrate. We’re one behind.” Rachel held her hands up in mock surrender, her face still creased.

“Okay,” said James, picking up another card. “Geography. Ooh, this one’s a toughie,” he continued. “What strait separates Sicily and Italy, linking the Tyrrhenian and Ionian Seas?”

Rachel grimaced, thinking. “I’ve no idea,” she said, finally, looking across at her friend. “Chlo?”

“The Straits of Messina,” said Chloe, triumphantly.

“That’s… well done, Chloe,” said James, nodding and passing over a blue wedge, which Chloe slotted into her game piece. “I didn’t think you’d get that.”

“What, because Rachel didn’t know, you didn’t think I’d know?” said Chloe. Her voice was calm, but her hackles were up.

“That’s not what James said, dear,” said Rose, swiftly moving to calm things down. “Chloe, that was a very good answer. Well done.” She paused. “How did you know? I didn’t even know that one!”

“No idea,” said Chloe, shrugging. “Something I picked up in school, I guess. C’mon Rache, roll away. Let’s get another wedgie in the house.” Rachel broke down giggling so much that Chloe had to roll the die. It landed on a one. “Fu… I mean, pink.” She moved the piece and nudged her friend, who was still locked in her struggle with giggles. “What’s wrong with you?” She shook her head as Rachel’s mother picked up a new question card, missing the quick glance between husband and wife.

“Pink. Entertainment,” she said. “Which British circus began as an impromptu show in Olympia in the 1920s and continued as a family business until the 1960s?” Rose glanced at the back of the card and her eyebrows shot up. “This is… tough,” she said.

“I don’t know many circuses,” whispered Rachel. “Barnum, obviously, Cirque du soleil, that weird horror one…”

“… circus of horrors?” said Chloe. “Yeah, don’t think it’s that one. And the others weren’t British. Let’s see,” Chloe began counting on her fingers. “You’ve got Astley and Dibdin, but they were way too early. You’re looking at the late seventeen hundreds there. No, not them. You’ve got George Sanger and Charles Keith, but again they’re a little too early. The only one who really fits the bill is Betram Mills. He had a circus, I think around the right sort of era. And I’m pretty sure it lasted until the sixties.” She paused as Rose caught her breath. “Rose?” she said. “Am I on the right track?” Chloe turned back to Rachel. “I’d say go with Bertram Mills,” she said, and Rachel shrugged.

“It’s better than anything I can come up with,” she said. “Go with it.” She looked at Chloe. “How do you…”

“Bertram Mills,” said Chloe, looking directly at Rose. “Final answer.” She turned to Rachel. “Sorry, wrong show,” she said, turning back to Rose. “Did we get it right?”

“How did you…” said Rose, shaking her head and handing over the die. “Correct answer. Well done.”

“Yes, very well done, Chloe,” said James. “I don’t think I’d have been able to answer that one.”

“See, I’m not just a pretty face,” said Chloe. Her face had lit up in triumph and she was grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Rache, roll away.” The next roll was a one and took them to a free roll space, following that with a four.

“History,” said James, picking up a card. “Crazy Horse was the chief of which Native American tribe?”

“Oh, I know this,” said Rachel. “It’s the Cherokee, isn’t it?” Chloe frowned.

“I’m not sure,” she said, “I thought it might have been the Sioux.” She turned to James. “I’ve always struggled with the pronunciation of that,” she said. “Is it shoe, like the pastry?” Rachel’s father stifled a laugh.

“Not quite,” he said. “It’s actually pronounced soo.”

“Right. Them,” said Chloe.

“No, I think it’s the Cherokee,” said Rachel. “I’m positive.”

“Sure?”

“I think so,” said Rachel. “Want to go with it?” Chloe thought for a moment and shrugged.

“If you’re sure,” she said, and Rachel nodded.

“Cherokee,” she said, but her father shook his head.

“Sorry Rachel,” he said. “That’s an incorrect answer. You should have listened to Chloe.” He smiled and nodded to Chloe. “Would have been another good answer, Chloe.”

“Yes, you’re really surprising us tonight, Chloe,” said Rose. “We never thought…”

“Yeah, I know my rep in school ain’t great,” she said, and looked at Rachel. “But I _am_ trying to do something about it now.”

“Motivation, behaviour-wise, maybe,” said James. “But there’s certainly no lack of intelligence. And the way you can retain all this information is… impressive.”

“Secret skills, me,” said Chloe, standing up. “Uh, mind if I use your toilet?”

“Not at all, Chloe,” smiled Rose. “You know where it is.” Rachel waited until her friend had left the room, then turned on her parents.

“That was so unbelievably rude, Dad,” she whispered, fiercely. “I can’t believe you said that! My God, what were you thinking?”

“Calm down, dear,” said Rose. “I’m sure your father wasn’t trying to be rude.”

“You too, mum,” said Rachel. “You insulted her! You couldn’t have been more obvious if you tried. You may as well have said ‘my word Chloe, we thought you were an idiot!’”

“In my defence,” said her father, “her school record isn’t great.”

“Really? She used to be a straight A student,” said Rachel. “Just because she’s had motivational issues recently doesn’t make her stupid. Shit, have you got any idea how _bored_ I am in English classes? I could quite easily not go to any of those classes and _still_ pass the course.”

“Don’t you even think of cutting school, young lady,” growled James. “You know what happened last year…”

“Not what I was saying, Dad,” said Rachel, getting angrier. “I was saying I _could_.” She gazed at them both. “You know what I think? I think Chloe isn’t challenged. I think that she’s being failed by the school. She’s a really intelligent girl, you know.”

“We can see that, dear,” said Rose, but Rachel shook her head.

“No, you can’t,” she said. “You’re basing that on what? Getting a couple of questions right at Trivial Pursuit? I see it _every single_ day. She is _very_ intelligent. And Blackwell is ignoring her. And do you know why?”

“No,” said James, “but I’ve the feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“Money,” said Rachel. “Pure and simple, she doesn’t have money or a bankable surname like the Prescotts, or the Chases. Or us, come to that! She is so much more intelligent that Nathan and Victoria put together, but because she has no money, Wells completely ignores her, unless she does something wrong, when he comes down on her like a ton of bricks!” She stood up, pointing at the door. “Blackwell should be _challenging_ her, Dad, helping her to reach and exceed her potential. It should be _teaching_ her. But it’s not. And it’s not only her that’s being affected.”

“Young lady…”

“Dad, you know as well as I do that Wells is a corrupt asshole,” said Rachel. “Look at what happened last year when Chloe and I first met. Yes, I made a mistake and I paid for it, although nowhere near as hard as I should have. In fact, he would have let me get off scott free, he automatically assumed it was all Chloe’s fault until I owned up! Chloe just followed me to protect me and ended up getting suspended. He was about to expel her if I hadn’t stepped in.” She took a breath. “How’s that for your justice, Dad? Fair? Even?”

“Rachel…”

“Don’t you Rachel me, Dad,” she said. “You’re the lawyer, remember? Not me. You’re the one who stands up for all that is good and right. Justice? So you tell me, here and now, is that right? Besides, you’re just as guilty of judging Chloe by nothing more than face value and a couple of Trivial Pursuit questions. So don’t try and backtrack or use any of that DA crap on me. You owe her an apology. You were rude and insulting to my best friend.”

“Rachel…”

“Dad?”

James sighed heavily, beaten. His shoulders sagged as he gazed at the floor. “You’re right,” he agreed. “Your mother and I, we’ve tried to give you and Chloe the benefit of the doubt. You know we weren’t all that keen on Chloe when you first became friends, but I can see that you both have grown very close, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardise that now.” He sighed again. “Yes, I was rude, yes, I was judgmental. I didn’t mean to be, I was just surprised, that’s all. Pleasantly so, if I may add.” He looked up at his daughter. “But I don’t agree with your comments about Blackwell. I think Ray Wells is doing an excellent job. You have no idea what it takes to run a school like that, the money that needs to be raised, the deals that have to be done in order to get you a top quality education. I mean, do you have any idea what it costs to get a top name like Mark Jefferson to come and teach here? And yes, Chloe is smart and talented, but she’s also been a trouble-maker. You can’t ignore that, can you? Her record speaks for itself. You can see why someone like Wells would prefer the money is spent on someone who wants to learn, who wants to better themselves, not someone who seems intent on throwing it all away.”

“Seems?”

“Sorry, seemed,” said James. “Yes, Chloe does appear to be taking school far more seriously now.”

“Yeah well, you’re not there on the front lines every day, Dad,” she said. “I can see what’s going on. I get special treatment, I know that. I think that was made quite obvious last year, but also with everyday things. Like the Tempest. And this year. I don’t even know what we’re doing but I’ve been told the leading role is mine. I don’t even know what it is, Dad. It might be something I’m completely wrong for, but nobody gives two shits about that!”

“But you’re such a good actress, dear…”

“Mum, you don’t know that. The Tempest was good for me, but this next one, it could be completely wrong. I could be… well, anything! And Mum, it’s actor. _Not_ actress.” Rachel stood. “And Nathan Prescott is another one, he gets preferential treatment. That guy can do _nothing_ wrong, a complete model student. High grades, perfect behaviour. But he’s totally unhinged. There’s even a rumour going around that he has a gun on school grounds.”

“Rachel…”

“No, I can’t prove it, Dad, that’s why it’s a rumour. But it wouldn’t surprise me at all. And don’t believe his record. His grades _really_ don’t match what he _actually_ achieves in school, which is very little, and as for his behaviour, well, there’s enough material on that guy for a footlong rap sheet and a psychiatric paper. All covered up, of course, at the behest of his father,” she added. “And Victoria Chase. Another one with special powers. Victoria _is_ talented and smart, no doubt about that, but she’s so used to getting everything she wants that she doesn’t know how to behave civilly.” She shrugged. “She’s never had to before, she doesn’t have to now.” She paused. “You know she bullies Chloe, right? No? I’m not surprised, it’s all brushed under the carpet by Wells. What do you think would happen if Chloe were to bully Victoria or Nathan? She’d be out of Blackwell before you could say ‘bribery’.” She looked behind her. “Right, I can hear Chloe coming back. You will apologise to her, okay?”

“Rachel…”

“I mean it, Dad. I won’t have you insulting her. Now you’ll apologise to her for your rudeness, and we’ll continue to play Trivial Pursuit and have a lovely evening.” She paused as Chloe entered and sat down. “Drinks, anyone? And Dad, I believe it’s your turn. Don’t you have something to say first?”


	8. Lightning

“Are you sure?”

“Chloe,” sighed Rachel. “I’m as sure as the last time you asked me.” She turned her head to stare pointedly at her friend. “Which was about thirty seconds ago.”

“Yeah, but nothing’s happening.”

“Chloe, do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then trust me. The forecast said it would happen, so let it happen.” Rachel tried to look serious but suddenly giggled.

“What was that for?” said Chloe.

“I was going to say ‘be patient’, but then I realised the futility of my words,” said Rachel, still giggling. They were sat on the bench underneath the lighthouse, looking over Arcadia Bay. There were a few clouds in the sky, but nothing like what was promised on the forecast.

“You are very eloquent,” said Chloe, looking left at her friend. Rachel was looking particularly radiant today; she’d obviously recently washed her hair as it had a sheen to it that was quite alluring. They’d both decided only to wear a t-shirt and jeans; the promise of a proper thunderstorm was too much to resist. “Are you sure this is happening?”

“I’m not a meteorologist,” said Rachel, her exasperation beginning to show. “All I know is that they said there would be a thunderstorm this afternoon around four o’clock.”

“It’s ten past.”

“I _know_ what time it is,” said Rachel. “Look, why don’t we pass the time doing something else other than watch the sky. It’s like a boiling kettle, you need to look away for it to boil.” They settled into an awkward silence for a few minutes, both girls looking around the landscape but avoiding each other while trying not to look like they were avoiding each other, before it was broken by Chloe.

“Look, uh, Rache…”

“I know what you’re gonna say, Chloe,” said the girl.

“No, you don’t,” said Chloe. She turned on the bench to face her friend. “Look, about last night, I…”

“… seriously, Chloe, there’s nothing to talk about,” Rachel said, her face going more than a little red. Maybe it was the wind. Had it picked up in the last few minutes? “Please, just… don’t, okay? Not right now, yeah?” A flash of disappointment passed briefly across Chloe’s face, gone as soon as it appeared, and unnoticed by her friend, who was looking out over the bay.

“Sure, Rache,” said Chloe. “It… wasn’t important, anyway,” she continued, her face betraying the lie as her eyes dropped to the floor, but suddenly she looked up, her face brightening. “It’s… starting to rain,” she said. “It’s… starting. Rache, it’s starting. Look!”

“See? I told you,” said Rachel, all awkwardness gone. Within a few minutes, the rain had noticeably worsened, going from light, picky rain to huge drops, not just falling, but plummeting in slabs. The sky darkened, huge black clouds building menacingly above. “Shit, that was quick,” said Rachel, jumping up from the bench. Both girls were completely soaked through by now, but neither of them were at all bothered by this. They jumped around, dancing to the tune of the rain, arms outstretched like Andy Dufresne at the end of Shawshank Redemption, running around shrieking with joy. It was noticeable, however, that whenever Chloe neared her friend, Rachel would veer off. Was she avoiding physical contact? If so, why?

The sky flashed briefly, making the girls scream in delight. It was followed almost immediately by a huge thunderclap directly above them, deafening them with the mighty roar and making Chloe jump half out of her skin. Within a few seconds, the sky flashed again and again, the clouds now darkening the day into twilight. A bolt of lightning struck a tree around 100 metres away from the girls accompanied by another huge clap of thunder. The tree didn’t explode into sparks as expected, but stayed silent as the grave, the only clue the smell of ionised air all around them.

“Look!” said Chloe, pointing at the tree. It was beginning to smoke, but where was the smoke coming from? Neither girl was willing to risk walking any closer to the trees, just in case (they may be silly, but they weren’t stupid), but the tree was obviously in distress. The outside seemed absolutely fine, apart from the large scar running down one side, but the scar seemed to be glowing red. A bright red, almost like…

“It’s on fire!” screamed Rachel above the noise of the rain and wind. “It’s on fire from the inside! I need to get this!” She ran over to her backpack and retrieved her camera. “Can you spot for me please?”

“What?”

“I need to get closer. Keep an eye on the trees, Chloe,” said Rachel. “Okay?”

“Are you sure about this, Rache?” said Chloe. “You could be…”

“Always take the shot, right?” said her friend. “Now, spot for me please.” Another flash of lightning lit up the sky and the girls jumped at the thunderclap that followed. Rachel slowly crept forward, moving left and right to try and get the best view of the tree that was being eaten alive from the inside out.

“Rache…”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” said the girl. She suddenly dashed forward and knelt down in amongst several trees, looking up at the distressed tree. She raised the camera and steadied herself.

Just at that moment there was a gigantic thunderclap, bigger than any so far. It was accompanied by a giant flash of lightning, which scythed through the air, ionising it completely and striking the tree directly in front of Rachel. There was a huge crack as the tree split in two and began to fall, slowly at first, towards the girl.

“Rachel!” screamed Chloe, dashing forward to grab her friend. As she did so, Rachel stood up and both girls ran back to the clearing as the tree crashed down where she had been kneeling. They caught their breath for a few moments before Rachel looked at her friend.

“Thanks Chloe,” she murmured. “Always looking out for me.”

Chloe’s lip wobbled but, before she could burst into tears, she threw her arms around Rachel and drew her close. Unlike earlier, this wasn’t met with any resistance. “I could have lost you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“That was monumentally stupid,” said Chloe, trying to stave off tears and tightening the hug.

“I had you to look out for me, Chlo,” said Rachel, hesitant at first but eventually returning the hug. “And I got the shot.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Yeah,” said Rachel, enjoying the warmth and closeness of Chloe’s embrace. “Totally.”


	9. Victoria's Victorians

Looking furtively around and ahead, Chloe Elizabeth Price pulled the notebook close and began to doodle. Swiftly and expertly, she drew a simple figurine representation of herself sat in the chair, but with a gun to her head. Smiling, she ripped off the sheet and slid it across the table to her friend, who looked almost as excited as she felt. In fact, she was simply radiating, unable to contain her obvious excitement.

Rachel took the sheet of paper, looked at it and smiled at Chloe, scribbling something on it and sliding it back across the table. When Chloe picked it back up, her doodle now had a caption underneath it.

_Only those who are worthy are saved._

She grinned at Rachel, then looked up. At the front of the class, Mrs Hoida turned around to look at her students. “So, any thoughts or comments on that?” She paused and looked around. “Yes, Victoria?”

“Well, I don’t see a problem with it.” There was some general disquiet in the classroom at her statement, something which was not lost on the teacher.

“Okay,” said the teacher, slowly looking around. “I’m not sure that many people will agree with you, so why don’t you elaborate on that?”

“Well, they don’t have any money, so they’d be a drain on society as a whole,” said Victoria. “It’s far better to keep them in the workhouses. I mean, they weren’t that bad, really. They were fed, clothed and housed, and they had a job.” She shrugged. “Not bad, really, for people who had nowhere else to go.”

“How can you say that?” said Juliet, turning in her seat to face the tall blonde, prim as usual in a smart blue blazer over a white blouse. “Those Victorian workhouses were totally brutal,” she continued, her face betraying her annoyance at Victoria’s remarks. “Fed? Yeah, like half a bowl of grey slop every day is enough to keep you going. Clothed? Just barely, and housed in dormitories so filthy that half of them died of typhus and who knows what else?”

“Well, they can’t exactly make them too nice, now can they?” retorted Victoria. Rachel and Chloe sat up and began listening. This was getting interesting. “Otherwise everyone would want to go there, wouldn’t they? Easy life, free food, free clothes, free house. Nobody would want to work for a living, then, and the economy couldn’t sustain that. Workhouses were necessary, and they had to be places people didn’t want to go to, so they couldn’t exactly make them all cushy.”

“Victoria does have a point,” said the teacher. “Juliet?”

“Maybe,” conceded the young journalist, “but she’s missing the bigger point.”

“Which is?”

“Victorian Workhouses were not the solution to the problem. You had children like Oliver, essentially born into slavery with no hope of bettering themselves. The whole point of workhouses were places where people could work off their debts and look to get back into society as a whole…”

“… weren’t those debtor prisons?” said Rachel. “I think you’re looking at the wrong thing, Juliet,” she continued. “No, workhouses weren’t there to work off debts, they were a convenient way of sequestering the homeless, unemployed, mentally ill, disabled, or orphans. They lived there, earned their keep by doing slave labour in the most appalling conditions. We know from the start of the book that Oliver was an orphan; his mother died in childbirth and from that point on he was a ward of the state. He was even named by a system that Mr Bumble had devised, a system that named the child irrespective of gender, race, anything at all. He was named before he was even born! And as for work, he was put to work when he was, what, six? Eight? Picking oakum, picking apart old rope at that young age? If he hadn’t asked for more, he would most likely have spent his whole life in that workhouse without any thought of what lay beyond. In standing up for himself, even though it brought short-term hardship, it was the one thing that allowed him to escape the workhouse and find his way in the larger world.”

“But the conditions…”

“… were harsh, yes,” said Rachel, nodding at Juliet. “They were _designed_ that way. They were the last resort; they were _meant_ as a last resort. The politicians, decision-makers wanted people to fear the workhouses. Many would rather die that go into a workhouse.”

“So let them die,” said Chloe, piping up, “and decrease the surplus population.”

“Wrong book, Chloe, but yes, basically that was the view of the gentry,” said Mrs Hoida. “I think Rachel has it nailed there. It’s like sweeping the dust under the carpet. If you can’t see it, it isn’t there.”

“But I still think they were necessary,” said Victoria. “I mean, you really don’t want people like that roaming around the streets. It wouldn’t be safe.”

“Yeah, like Jack the Ripper made it safer,” retorted Juliet. “They were horrible places, Victoria. I can’t believe you’re condoning them. Just because you have money…”

“… now now, Juliet, don’t make this personal,” said the teacher. “Let’s keep this discussion going properly.” She turned to Victoria. “You seem to be at odds with the rest of the class,” she said. “Why don’t you make your case?”

“She can’t,” snickered Rachel. “Defend the indefensible much?”

“Rachel, please,” said Mrs Hoida, sternly. “Let Victoria have a chance. She is as much entitled to her opinion as you are. Victoria?”

“Well, the thinking behind the workhouses were sound,” said Victoria. “They wanted somewhere that the poor and wretched could go when they have nowhere else. I mean, you may as well make use of them, rather than them die in the gutter, surely?” She paused for breath. “I will concede that the intention was somewhat loftier than the reality of them, but they did their job. People feared them…”

“… with good reason…”

“… which was absolutely essential, otherwise places like London would grind to a halt. Everyone would want to go and live there. Free food, clothing, medical care, a job, a roof over their heads. Very cushy.”

“Rachel, your side?”

Rachel was quick to respond, standing up and pointing her finger at Victoria. “They split up families, mothers were punished for speaking to their husbands or children. They were beaten, starved, exploited, given mind-numbing work like rope-picking or stone-breaking. They lived in squalid conditions with no light, full of smallpox, measles and god knows what else. They worked eighteen or twenty-hour days with no downtime, there was either work or sleep, nothing else.” Rachel was getting worked up now. “There was no basic sanitation, and all the while the fat cats in charge, the ones with all the money were _raking_ it in through government grants, getting rich off the poor, like some sort of twisted reverse Robin Hood. There was absolutely none, not _one single redeeming feature_ about a workhouse at all. They were abhorrent, sick places that had absolutely no place in society.” She paused to draw breath, the rest of the class looking open-mouthed at her tirade. “You know what? You’re right in one respect, Chase. The intention behind it started off well – help the poor. But once it was put into the hands of the rich, all thoughts of help went straight out of the window, corrupted like everything else they touched. They were concerned with one thing and one thing one. _Money_. _Power_. And the exploitation and abuse of those who couldn’t speak for themselves!” She sat down again, slightly red in the face while everyone else in the room stared at her in shock.

“Jesus, Rache,” murmured Chloe as her friend caught her breath. “Are you… okay?” She grinned as Rachel winked at her and she realised it was all an act. “Good speech,” she whispered. “And Jesus, you’re good. I almost believed you there.”

“Admit it, Price,” whispered Rachel. “You’re impressed.”

“Damn straight.”

“Okay, Rachel, thank you for that… rant,” said Mrs Hoida. “It was very… eloquent. And passionate.” She turned to the rest of the class. “So, moving on, let’s look at the apprenticeship scheme that Oliver was, well, sold into. Who has any thoughts about… no, anyone apart from Victoria?”


	10. Homework

“So, we were basically dicks to them?” said Chloe, looking up from her book. “They were here, all nice and happy and shit, and we came along, decided we needed the land for expansion. They got annoyed, so we killed them?”

“There’s a bit more to it, but, yeah, basically,” said Rachel. She stood up to turn the bedroom light on. The sun had long since given up the ghost and the fading light was making reading more and more challenging. “That’s better,” she said, lying back down on her stomach, facing her friend. She grinned. “I love how you can just take something historical and uber-important, and just strip everything away and sum it up perfectly in one or two words.”

“Meh,” said Chloe. “Most things come down to ‘we were dicks’ when you look at the underlying truth.”

“Truth is a triple-edged sword,” said Rachel.

“I thought it was understanding,” said Chloe, grinning. “You can’t out-Vorlon me, you know.” She paused. “But you’re right. Take both sides, and the truth will be somewhere in the middle.” She sighed. “This is boring,” she said, jumping to her feet. “Why is homework always so boring?”

“History can be boring, but not always.”

“This is.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” said Rachel.

“What do you mean?” said Chloe, her curiosity piqued.

“Remember the game we played in the park?”

Chloe smiled. She remembered. “The one with the telescope. We had to imagine what people were saying?”

“Yeah. The one where you proved your ninja skills to me for the first time,” said Rachel, smiling back.

“So?”

“Right here. Right now. Improv sesh,” said Rachel. “I’m…” She looked quickly through the book. “I’m a representative of the American Government under Andrew Jackson, come to negotiate with you, a representative of the Native American tribe after the passing of the Indian Removal Act in 1830.”

“Which tribe?”

“Does it matter?” said Rachel.

“Duh,” replied Chloe. “Of _course_ it matters! You wanna do this properly. There were five tribes involved. Pick one.”

“Ok, the Cherokee,” said Rachel. “You are representing the Cherokee tribe in this negotiation. We’ll skip over gender, you can be male or female. We’re not going for complete historical accuracy here.”

“Can we just get on with it?”

“Sure.” Rachel stood up and offered her hand. “Hi. I’m Jeremy. Pleased to meet ya.”

“Uh,” said Chloe, looking around, “me heap big, um…”

“Hey, less of the casual racism there, Chlo,” said Rachel, laughing. “Just talk normally, kay?” Chloe blushed and turned away, pretending to look at the book.

“Jeremy,” she said. “My name is Ahyoka. Welcome to the land of my people.” She paused. “I trust you aren’t going to cause trouble.”

“Yeah, about that,” said Rachel, scratching her head. “I’m here on behalf of President Jackson.”

“He’s not my President,” said Chloe. “I didn’t vote for him.”

“Nevertheless…”

“Now look here,” said Chloe. “We’re an anarcho-syndicalist commune here, we…”

“… and less of the Monty Python as well,” said Rachel, laughing. “We need to get this in tomorrow, so let’s try and take it a little more seriously?”

“Still didn’t vote for him,” said Chloe, pouting.

“We are here on behalf of the government of the United States of America,” said Rachel, waving a sheet of paper. “This is an act of parliament giving us the right to settle these lands.”

“Let me see that,” said Chloe, reaching out for the paper. “I don’t remember any of us being consulted.”

“That wasn’t necessary. These are the lands of the Americans.”

“True,” said Chloe. “Thing is, _you_ aren’t the Americans. We are. My people have lived and worked these lands for and long time. You guys just came over in boats not long back and expect to be entitled to everything? Doesn’t work like that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Rachel. “This piece of paper gives me the right to settle these lands. By order of the President of these twenty-four United States, you are hereby ordered to remove yourself from this land and find somewhere else to live.” She paused. “I think Ohio is quite nice this time of year.”

“Uh, not sure Ohio exists yet,” whispered Chloe.

“Meh, a trifling erronity,” said Rachel.

“You can’t just steal our land,” protested Chloe, back in character.

“We’re not stealing. We need this land for expansion. Our population is swelling; industry is rising, we need to expand.”

“No you don’t,” said Chloe. “You just want it because you don’t have it. I’ve heard about what you’ve done in the past.”

“That doesn’t matter,” said Rachel. “You have one week to move. After that, I am authorised to enforce this act.”

“And that was that?” said Chloe, sitting back down. “As I said, we were dicks to them.”

“But we can’t put that on our report, can we?” said Rachel. “As I said earlier, I love your succinctness, but we need a _little_ more detail here.”

“Okay, I’ll look into the act,” said Chloe. “You find out if anyone in the government opposed it.”

“Done and done,” said Rachel. “Oh, and by the way.”

“Yes?”

“Ahyoka?”

“Traditional Cherokee name,” said Chloe. “Means ‘she brought happiness.’”

“How did you…”

“Five P’s. Prior Preparation Prevents Poor Performance,” said Chloe. “You know me…”

“Yeah. Always prepared.”

“Damn straight.”


End file.
